


10 problems with living with Luke Skywalker

by yukiawison



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chewie is a dog, College Professors AU, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sadness, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Han's house wasn't just his anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 problems with living with Luke Skywalker

1\. He's messy.

The alarm went off, Chewie barked at the sound. "Shit, I should go home," Luke rolled over out of the warmth at Han's side and hit the alarm. "Get up, you're going to be late too." He kissed him quickly and started pulling on his clothes: an embarrassingly small tee shirt advertising their junior prom's under the sea theme, and Han's sweatpants, baggy on Luke, that he was in the habit of stealing.

"Don't forget to change Professor Skywalker," Han hummed, turning over and sticking his head up from the sheets. 

"Don't forget to put on clothes Professor Solo." He shot him that bright smile he knew made his knees weak.

"I wish you could just get dressed here," Han muttered as Luke was pulling on his shirt.

"I can't keep all my clothes here," he sighed.

"You could," Han shot back. 

"How?"

"You could move in."

"Move in?" Luke's face froze. "You want to live together?" Luke looked so horrified Han immediately moved to retract the offer.

"It was just an idea. We don't have to..."

"Of course I'll move in. I love you and we're both adults. Why shouldn't we move in together?"

"Cause of the look on your face," he replied. Luke quickly wiped the horror off of his face.

"I wasn't..."

"Luke."

"It scares me okay? I'm 27 and living with someone other than my sister scares the shit out of me."

"It scares me too kid. But I'd like to try it. If you want to I mean."

"Of course, of course I'll try it. I love you," he said, embarrassed.

"You said that already, and I love you too."

Luke moved in in waves: first big cardboard boxes full of books and comforters, then suitcases full of his clothes and more hair products than would feasibly fit in Han's bathroom. Chewie's tail wagged incessantly every time he came in with a new "Luke object" for him to investigate. Luke showed up to class in unironed, mismatched clothes and excitedly explained his move to hoards of dumbfounded astronomy students.

The halls were filled with boxes: boxes blocking the bathroom, boxes blocking the bed, boxes everywhere.

"Are you going to unpack sometime kid? Not that there's any rush," ever since the day he'd brought the whole moving in thing up he'd been treading lightly. "I'd just like to be able to walk."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he put some more batter in the waffle iron (a bright orange contraption he'd brought with him.) "I'll unpack everything this weekend. It has just been so busy lately. His eyes were squinty and tired behind his glasses. It seemed that he was always grading papers or holding extra office hours, or nodding off in front of half finished lesson plans. Luke was working himself too hard.

"If you need help I'm here Luke. Don't think you have to do it all alone."

"Here, have some waffles, you haven't been eating well," Luke looked concerned. Chewie didn't, he'd rather have Han's waffles, nudging his knee with his nose. 

Han had lost some weight. It was getting colder outside, which made him anxious, and when he was anxious he forgot to eat, only he couldn't tell Luke any of this without explaining why the cold made him anxious in the first place. And he wasn't ready to talk about that.

That night Han tripped over one of Luke's boxes, and he apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry. This is so ridiculous maybe I should..."

"Kiss me. You should kiss me and we should go to bed kid," Han said, unbuttoning Luke's work button down and kissing his jaw tenderly. 

"Han," he sighed dreamily. "I know I'm a mess I promise I'll..."

"Shh, no time to talk now kid. Let's get you in your pajamas." He began unbuttoning Luke's pants as well, pressing another kiss to his lips. They didn't quite make it to pajamas, and the boxes were unpacked that weekend.

Luke left his clothes everywhere, and his papers everywhere and Han teased him mercilessly when he tripped over a mess of his own creation. One day the coffee table was cluttered up nearly beyond recognition. Luke was seated in front of it in his wire rimmed glasses, gluing something.

"What're you doing kid?" Luke jumped.

"Han, what are you doing home?" He tried to cover the mess with his hands but it was too late.

"I ended class early," Han taught the most popular elective in the history department. "Bootleggers, Smugglers, and Bandits: the History of Crime," and therefore made his own schedule. "I wanted to see if you'd like to go out for dinner tonight. What do you have there Luke?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he said dejectedly. "Some of the students in my class are into collages."

Han looked down at Luke's work: cut outs of him in prom garb, Luke with his arm slung around Leia, Han on the other side of her with a bright smile and haircut he hated, Luke kissing him, Han with Chewie, the mutt licking his face excitedly, Luke in that dumb poncho. It was their life, spliced together and glued onto a canvas. It was all the happy bits, all the things and people and places he loved together. 

"It's a thank you, for putting up with me these past few weeks. I know I'm a slob."

"Yeah but your a hot slob so it works out."

2\. He can be tooth rotting-ly, distractingly cute.

"Hey kid, what are you doing?" 

Luke pulled a bag of popcorn out of the microwave, shaking his fingers where the bag had burned him. 

"Making popcorn, what do you think?"

Han frowned. "Luke do we really need four bags of popcorn?"

"Two butter two kettle," he said, looking at Han as if he had just asked what color the sky was.

Luke seemed to be putting on the weight Han was losing, the extra padding suiting his small frame. 

"Absolutely," Han said with a smirk. "What was I thinking?"

Luke poured the popcorn into a bowl and stuffed a handful in his mouth. Cheeks full of popcorn, the 27 year old looked about 12 and way too cute to be his boyfriend.

"Come on let's finish the movie loser."

When Han was reading on the couch Luke would put his head in his lap and look up at him, making faces until he put the book down and paid attention to him.

And one day, the nerd, he packed him lunch in a brown paper bag he opened before his class. That turned out to be a bad idea because when his students started trickling in he was still cackling over the heart shaped ham sandwich and mostly burnt chocolate chip cookie he had tried to make in secret the night before.

"What's so funny Professor Solo?" One of his students asked, and suddenly all eyes were on him. 

"Now don't get me wrong," Han began. "Despite what you may have heard I don't date teenagers. But my boyfriend, a grown man, made me a ham sandwich in the shape of a heart for lunch."

The room echoed with stifled snickering. "Go ahead laugh it up. He's a sappy piece of shit but he's mine." And we live together. We cohabitate a little less than effortlessly and I love it.

3\. He "borrows" your stuff and never returns it.

"Hey Luke?" 

"Yeah?" He was curled up on the couch, eating cereal and watching the news. It was one of those entirely too domestic scenes that still managed to surprise him, and remind him he was getting old. 

"Is that my sweatshirt?" It wasn't really a question, the baggy garment was several sizes too big on him and had the faded logo of the ultimate frisbee club Han belonged to in college.

"Do you mind?" He didn't. The effortless swapping of clothing meant a level of closeness he wasn't accustomed to. There had been no such closeness in his childhood, no kind words or easy silence of friendship. Instead the silences had been long and cold, and the words harsh when they came at all. 

"No, I'm glad you took off my tie and my jacket," he laughed. "Are you ever going to give me my stuff back?"

"What happened to what's mine is yours?" Luke teased.

Han looked around: Luke's dishes in the sink, Luke's papers ungraded on the kitchen table, Luke's blue and green umbrellas in the umbrella stand, it seemed what was his was already Luke's: his house, his clothes, his heart. Chewie jumped up on the couch beside Luke and he set down his cereal so he could pet him. Han wished he could have endless days like these, days where Luke forgot to wear his contacts and didn't put on real clothes because there was no where to go but the other end of the couch. He loved these days where they turned up the radio and danced like madmen and he was 14 again, spraying silly string that caught in the carpet. And there were long lazy kisses, and hands held as they walked the dog. It was glove weather now, and Han gripped Luke's hand for dear life, to anchor him, to keep him safe.

"Luke?" He looked out the window blankly, snow was falling. He could tell him, he could tell him now. 

"Yeah?" He turned around to look at him. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He could tell him right now, be done with it and see the look on his face.

"Nothing," not now. "It's snowing."

It was easy to let Luke borrow clothes or books or pens tossed across the kitchen table. But it was hard to let him in.

4\. He is not a morning person.

"Luke! Luke honey you're going to be late."

"Luke, get your ass out of bed."

"Luke, the building's on fire get up!"

Luke moaned and rolled over, shirt riding up on his chest. Han quickly pressed a cup of coffee into his palms and smoothed his hair back so he could kiss his forehead. 

"You're not a teenager Luke, as much as you might act like one. You're nearly 30," if the coffee didn't work maybe he could shock him awake.

"You can't call me nearly 30 until I'm at least 29," he grumbled. "And I know I'm not a teenager I can't fit into any of my high school clothes." Han grinned, Luke had taken to wearing his old tee shirts as crop tops. 

"Then get up before we're both late kid."

He'd fall asleep by his breakfast in the morning, egg yolks running into a mess on his toast. 

Sometimes he was just plain irritable in the morning, snapping at Han and quickly apologizing because he knew that if the argument was in the morning it was most likely him in the wrong.

Some mornings, the best mornings, it didn't matter what time they woke up. Luke would fish for the remote in the sheets and find some old movie or cartoon to watch. He seemed especially tuned to the right channels. (Han pinned it on a childhood of fighting for the remote with Leia.) Han would run out for bagels and they'd stay in bed for the rest of the day. Luke had terrible bed head, and Han would watch him play Animal Crossing on his DS for hours just running his fingers through his hair.

He never imagined that the kid he met in high school, the scrawny sophomore he had awkward lunch dates with who shared his umbrella and notes, would be this important. He never thought he'd press Luke's blond head to his heart and be able to feel the quickening of it, the steady breathing and warmth that filled his chest.

He didn't think it could ever be this way because Han Solo messed things up. Han Solo left. Han Solo ran. Han Solo didn't deserve someone who was there day in and day out because he knew, deep down, that it wasn't his nature to reciprocate.

But God, when he looked at Luke he wanted to.

5\. His sister is always there.

"Hey Han where do you keep your baking dishes?" Leia poked her head up from behind the counter. Her trademark buns were dotted with flour. 

"The cabinet on your left. What are you doing?" He didn't add "here" because Leia was always at their place. 

"I'm making brownies for your boyfriend," she said smugly. "And you if you're nice."

"I'm always nice."

She scoffed. She was prone to do that, she did work in the mayor's office. She pulled a pan out of the cabinet and sprayed it with oil.

Luke came up behind her and curled his arms around her waist. Han remembered that in the beginning they had seemed so close he thought they were dating. It was a little awkward to presume that of twins, so he hadn't shared it with them. 

"Hey little sister," he smiled, looking over her shoulder at the half mixed brownie batter.

"I'm a minute younger than you, nerd."

"Why are you making brownies?"

Leia looked at Han, and then she looked over her shoulder at Luke. "Guys, it's your anniversary."

Luke looked at him, dim confusion turning to horror. What day was it? Dammit it was the 13th. He'd forgotten, they'd both forgotten.

"Han I'm so sorry."

"Relax kid I forgot too."

"Well isn't this embarrassing," Leia said, and Luke shot her with a handful of flour. 

"I really am sorry," Luke muttered into his skin as he kissed his neck. Luke's idea of an apology (which was unnecessary but very welcome) was sex. His hands were on Han's chest and Han's hands were in Luke's hair and their lips were meeting sloppily and full of want. "We usually remember."

They did usually remember, and made a big deal of it to Leia and anyone who would listen. There were flowers and fancy dinners and love notes written on bathroom mirrors. Now they were too busy, too involved in each other's lives to plan big romantic gestures. In a way it was good, the plastic wrapped tiptoeing part was over and the arguing over who was supposed to do the dishes and Chewie's hair all over both of their clothes had begun. 

"I love you so much," Han muttered as Luke pressed kisses to his collarbone. "We should..." He stopped.

"Should what? Luke replied, looking up at him with swollen lips and mussed hair.

Should get married, he said in his head but not out loud. Marry me Luke. "Nothing, it's nothing." He kissed him again and Luke melted against him.

"Thank god for Leia," he muttered.

***

Han's face was wet. Luke was laughing. Leia was cackling on the floor. The twins had decided that a water gun surprise was a good idea. Han didn't agree. 

"You should've seen your face Han," he laughed, gasping for air.

"Haha kid I get it, now would you get me a towel?"

Luke grinned and nodded, hurrying out of the room.

"So when are you going to marry my brother?"

Han nearly fell off his chair. "Marry? Me? Luke? Leia I uh h-haven't th-thought about..."

"Relax lover boy, it was just a question," she smirked at him, wet hair sagging.

"I want to. I love him." They were getting older. Nearly everyone Han's age was married and most of the people Luke and Leia's age were tying the knot too. Marriage seemed too otherworldly, something that would have scared the shit out of Han 10 years ago. Not now? Not with Luke. With Luke it felt like home.

"Then where's the ring man, chop chop," she punched him on the shoulder. In truth he loved having her around. He loved that loving a twin meant a package deal. 

"Here's your towel Han." Leia gave him a pointed look.

I'll do it soon.

5\. He'll make you slow dance.

It was rainy and a Sunday so neither of them had a class, and Luke had finished grading a stack of papers about Mars. Luke and Leia had uncovered a record player at Goodwill and he had turned it on, dusted it off, and found a bunch of records. 

"Dance with me," he said, and since Han had nothing better to do, he did. They had to tread lightly, the player skipped if it was jostled too much, but the upbeat Beatles song was just perfect.

Baby's good to me you know she's happy as can be you know she said so. I'm in love with her and I feel fine.

Luke looked ridiculous, as per usual, arms above his head as the rain continued to pour. And then the record fizzled into static and he put another on, this time slow and smooth.

"Kid you know I don't slow dance."

"You do with me you big dummy."

I'll be seeing you  
In all the old familiar places  
This heart of mine embraces  
All day and through.

Luke's hand was warm on his waist. His face was in the crook of his neck. He smelled like peppermint and ink. 

In that small café  
The park across the way,  
The children's carousel,  
The chestnut trees,  
The wishing well.

The record was crackling, and Luke drew back so he could see Han and his eyes were sparkling so much he wished he had a ring so he could propose right there in the living room.

6\. He will lose his key.

It was snowing, hard, and Han found it difficult to breathe. Luke wasn't home yet, and Han was tapping his foot nervously. It was time to break out the bottle of scotch he kept under the sink. It was hard to eat when he was anxious but it was easy to drink. And drink he did, feeling foggy as the snow kept coming down. Where was he? He was late. Why wasn't he answering his texts? Was he hurt? Was he somewhere bleeding crimson in the ivory snow?

He was about ready to call the police when there was a knock on the door. Oh no, he thought. They're already here to tell me he's dead or dying at the hospital: small and fail and alone in one of those white rolling cots. He threw open the door and nearly fell on Luke and his groceries.

"You scared the shit out of me. Why didn't you answer my texts?"

"Whoa whoa my phone died. Are you okay? Have you been drinking?"

He came in and set his bags on the counter, pulling off his coat and shaking the snow from his hair. Han put his hands on Luke's flushed cheeks, assessing him wildly and kissing his forehead.

"Where's your key?"

"I lost it. Honey what's wrong?"

The scotch was making everything too bright, too intense, and he felt like he needed to cling to him for dear life.

"I thought...the roads are bad I thought something had happened," he muttered.

Luke frowned down at the scotch. He only drank on special occasions. "I'm okay Han. Everything's okay."

"I just need you to be okay because you're the only thing in my life that doesn't scare the shit out of me," the liquor was making his tongue looser. 

"Hey, it's okay," he pulled him close. "Geez Han you smell like a bar."

He pulled away, kissing him softly. 

"I'm sorry," he slurred. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's my fault. I shouldn't have scared you."

"I love you," he said, and then repeated it over and over again into his chest.

"I love you too."

7\. He'll get you hooked on soap operas.

"One more time Luke."

"Okay, so Carmen and Diego are in love but Carmen is married to Diego's brother Jesse. But Jesse is gay and having and affair with the pool boy Juan who is actually out to kill Carmen because she killed his sister Dora in a hit in run. Little does he know, Dora is alive and hiding out in Miguel's shed. Miguel is..."

"Diego's cousin," Han filled in. "Who is running a mass scam and being investigated by the FBI. Okay got it."

Luke grinned and rested his head on Han's shoulder. "So in this episode Carmen is going to have Diego's baby, and Jesse still doesn't know."

"Why do you watch this again?"

"It's Leia's fault. We used to watch it on snow days. She got me hooked."

"And now you're going to get me hooked." 

"What would you rather do with your boyfriend on a snowy Saturday."

As long as we're inside and your safe. Luke had been sticking close by him since the lost key incident.

"And when Diego proposed to Carmen it was so sweet. He lit a bunch of candles and kneeled down in their living room and she was so surprised she dropped her glass. It's so romantic," he gushed.

Han had bought a ring, a simple silver band chosen with help from Leia. He was just waiting for the right moment.

"Shh it's starting."

Three hours later he was crying over Diego in Carmen, yelling at Miguel and laughing at Luke.

8\. He steals the covers.

Han's legs were cold. He rolled over to reach out for Luke in the dark, hands wrapping around the blankets and tugging him closer. He made a sleepy sound of surprise and rolled over into him. They were used to this.

Even before they lived together they shared beds, cramped dorm room beds, lumpy futons, sleeping bags, they we tuned to each other's sleeping habits, accustomed to the tossing and turning. 

Han was having nightmares. He tried not to keep Luke up but more often than not Luke was awake beside him, rubbing his back and whispering words of love. He felt guilty, so he had stopped sleeping, no nightmares that way. 

Luke stole the covers. Luke wrapped himself up in the blankets and slept soundly with the glimmer of a smile on his face. Luke looked as beautiful asleep as he did awake. 

And though his toes were frozen and Luke was stirring, long lashes separating to reveal brilliant blue eyes, Han put on a brave face. 

"Good morning," he smiled, still tangled in their sheets, hair a mess and drool on the side of his mouth.

"Morning kid."

9\. He'll hurt you.

Han's hands were shaking and he couldn't get them to stop. There was ice on the windows and Han couldn't keep his hands still.

"Han are you okay? You look pale."

"I need a drink," he mumbled. Trying to steady his hand on the glass. 

"No you don't, come here," Luke got up from the kitchen table and put his hand on Han's arm. Han flinched.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing I'm fine."

Luke's eyebrows furrowed. "No you're not. Why aren't you talking to me?" 

"I can't," he said, heart pounding. "I'm sorry."

"You can actually," he said, voice rising. "Han you've not been eating or sleeping and when you do you have horrible nightmares and you're drinking and now you can't stop shaking. There's something wrong."

"Luke..."

"I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks and I'm scared to leave you alone. What is it Han? You have to tell me." He looked at his exhausted, worried boyfriend and his heart clenched. 

"If I tell you you're going to look at me with..." His voice broke. "With fucking pity and I'm going to hate myself for it."

"You mean you don't trust me?" He sounded hurt. He sounded angry. 

"Luke it's not about that."

"It's not about that? It's not about how you can't tell me things? About how you walk on eggshells around me? About how I love you to death and you're hurting and it kills me not to help?"

"Luke," he couldn't stand to see him cry.

"Tell me you idiot!"

"I can't," he repeated.

Luke turned away and slammed the door, hard, and he was gone. 

He'd fucked up. He'd majorly fucked up, and now he couldn't stop shaking. He tried several times to pour himself a drink and when he couldn't he took a swig from the bottle. And another swig, and he sunk down to the floor, crying in short devastating bursts and drinking until the world was cloudy again and there weren't any tears left. 

An hour later, maybe two, the door opened. The scotch was gone and he tried to stand but soon gave up when Luke crouched down in front of him.

"Are you okay?" He mumbled, voice hoarse, face stained with tears. He sat cross legged in front of him, sliding the empty scotch out of his fingers. "I'm sorry I left you."

"I'm sorry."

"You can tell me. Please tell me," he took Han's hands and kissed them. And Han was too drunk to resist him.

"When I was in high school I got in a car wreck," he began, blindingly aware of how soft and cracked his voice sounded. "It was the middle of winter and the road was icy," he shivered and Luke's anger seemed to melt into worry.

"The car slid and I hit a tree. I was stranded in a ditch, snow everywhere, no way out, no cell service, a broken arm and broken glass and blood all over the place. I..." He stopped. "I was stuck for two days in the biggest blizzard of the century. The police pulled me out when the snow started to melt. I had frost bite, my arm was a mess, my wrist is still kind of crooked, and now when it snows, whenever there's a goddamn flake of snow on the ground I freeze up and I drive myself crazy and I've been okay the past couple of years because we went on vacation somewhere warm, or it hardly snowed, or I was better at hiding it. But now, living with you, seeing you every day I can't do it. I'm pathetic and crazy about you. I'm sorry. I'm a fucking mess and I've never gotten this close without running away before."

"Han, oh my god Han." He hugged him. And he cried and hiccuped and snot was running down his face but it was okay because Luke was kissing him and holding him and rubbing feeling back into the parts of him that broke in that car. And the loneliness and the shame came off like layers of a coat, sticking with static and setting him free.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you. I'm so sorry."

"I love you. I love you so fucking much right now kid."

"Yeah, just don't puke on me." And he laughed, so hard he couldn't believe it. He didn't think he could laugh like that when there was snow on the ground.

10\. He will ruin your carpet, and proposal.

He was lighting candles and burning himself on the wax. Nervous hands and lighters didn't mix well. But how could he not be nervous? 

"He's not going to say no. I know it for a fact," Leia said over the phone. 

"I know I just...I want it to be perfect."

"You deserve perfect."

"Thank you." Luke had told her, and the twins had been there to talk. He didn't know that was what he needed until he talked. He didn't know how alone he was until he wasn't anymore. 

And now they deserved perfect, so he was trying his best to deliver.

"Han, what is all this?" Luke grinned at him, he was holding a coke from the vending machine at school. It was one of those days where he needed the sugar boost. There were candles everywhere, lighting his face up in a warm glow. 

"Luke, I love you. And I'm not good with words. I'm just good with you. And I know I lucked out with you. You're so sweet and so kind and so beautiful and you always know what to say to make things okay. And I never thought I was the marrying kind but..."

He dropped the coke and it spilled all over the carpet in an ugly puddle. "Wait wait wait," he was crying. "Dammit Han, you can't make me cry I was supposed to make you cry. "

"What?"

He pulled a small black box from his pocket. "I was going to ask you tomorrow."

Han laughed. "So that's what she meant when she said she was certain you wouldn't say no. "

He laughed. "C'mon, on one knee then," he folded his arms over his chest.

"Luke Skywalker, will you marry me?" He held out the ring. 

"Yes, you big idiot. Of course I will." 

Living with his husband Luke wasn't easy, but it was a welcome challenge.


End file.
